


Skin Hunger

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kissing, M/M, No Sex, Skin Hunger, Touching, slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel needs to be touched, Dean needs to touch him, everybody wins.  <i>This is not a story about sex; it's a story about intimacy.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> There's this thing I call _skin hunger_. It's not necessarily an overtly sexual thing, though it certainly can be with the right partner. It's more about intimacy, though. It's about about the basic human need to touch and be touched, to extend and receive physical affection with a trusted someone. 
> 
> This story is about Castiel's skin hunger and what Dean does to ease it. :-)

Since Castiel regained angelic grace, Dean notices a difference in him.  He's no less capable, no less terrifying when caught up in righteous fury, no less  _Cas_ ; but there's  _something_.  He's somehow softer around the edges, weathered by his human experiences, perhaps.  Whatever it is, it's something that dances around the edges of Dean's perception, something that disappears when he looks too closely.

Knowing there's a difference and not being able to put his finger on it leads Dean to study Castiel's every movement.  Cas takes his coat and suit jacket off now; he never did that before.  He takes them off and hangs them over the back of his chair and  _slouches_  over his research in just a dress shirt that  _isn't_  buttoned to his chin and has no tie.  That's different, but not the difference.

Castiel walks differently, his pace less hurried.  He looks around when he walks, studying the earth and the trees and the sky and the people passing by - especially the people passing by - in a way he never did before. He sometimes stops to talk to strangers, to smile at them and say something encouraging.  Dean realizes one day, mid-conversation with someone on the sidewalk in Atlanta that Castiel never seemed to notice strangers before he was human.  That's different, but it's not the difference.

He also eats now, although he doesn't need to.  No matter what the fare, Castiel tries it.  Of course, he usually wrinkles his nose in disgust and grumbles that the molecular structure isn't terribly pleasing to his special angel tongue and thank you but he'd prefer not to eat any more; but he tries everything that comes within reach.  That's different, too; but it's still not  _the_  difference.

Dean finally figures out what's different about Castiel, completely by accident.  They've been sitting side-by-side on the floor for hours, surrounded by texts that only Cas can read and artifacts that only Dean can make heads or tails of when Castiel sighs in frustration.  When Dean glances out of the corner of his eye, he sees not a high-octane-all-Heaven's-wrath angel; but a  _man_.

A man who's tired even if he doesn't need sleep and who's frustrated with his inability to  grasp an answer he must be certain is just out of reach; a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a weariness that speaks to the pain of living around his eyes.  Dean sees a man he loves and who he's pretty sure loves him, too.

He doesn't think before he reaches out; a gentle palm pressed to Castiel's cheek.  To his surprise, Cas closes his weary eyes and leans into the touch.  A faint smile settles on his lips as the pad of Dean's thumb traces his cheekbone and with a suddenness that Dean never could have anticipated, he knows he can't live another moment without tasting Castiel's lips.

His heart thunders with fear and anticipation as he leans forward with a last nervous breath over the angel's lips just ahead of his kiss.  Dean presses their lips together tenderly, lingering there for a long moment.  The only reaction he gets is a catch of breath in Castiel's throat, so he pulls away, thumb still stroking.  Castiel's eyes open slowly, the marbled blue drowning in the wetness of unshed tears and Dean's heart flutters painfully in his chest.

"Hey," he says, taking Castiel's face more firmly in his hand, fingers splayed to cradle the man who seems so fragile.  "It's okay, Cas.  We'll figure it out."

"No," Castiel blinks quickly and gives a tiny head shake. "It's not -"

Without another word, he leans once more into the gentle contact of Dean's skin on his own, closing the space between their lips in an instant.  Castiel's returned kiss lingers, just the way Dean's did; his palm pressing against Dean's jaw, just the way he's being touched.  A moment later, the give and take of soft kisses growing easy and almost familiar, Dean feels Castiel's body shift.

He leans backward, pushing books and artifacts out of the way before curling hesitant fingers in Dean's shirt to pull him along.  Castiel's breath comes in soft huffs against Dean's lips between kisses, but his movements are unhurried.  Fully stretched out on his back with Dean's weight settled half atop him, Castiel breathes a sigh that could only be relief.

"Is this okay?" Cas asks, his fingers quivering as they wrap around Dean's wrist and pull his hand to the bare skin of his own waist.  His skin is warm and soft under his rucked up shirt and Dean takes the liberty of pushing the shirt further out of the way.  He drags his palm back down Castiel's side, thumb trailing over his stomach as he reaches the waistband of his pants.

"Yeah," Dean murmurs in answer, "it's better than  _okay_."

Castiel's breathing grows more shallow as Dean explores the skin available to him, soft sounds of pleasure murmured against Dean's lips as they press together in more chaste, lazy kisses.  With each arch of Castiel's body to his palm, Dean's desire to feel more skin grows.  He shifts, finally, continuing to drop kisses to Castiel's lips and the line of his jaw even as he unbuttons both their shirts.

"Is this it?"  Dean murmurs after he's somehow managed to steady himself long enough to get both their shirts off and under Castiel's back to protect him from the cold stone floor.  He settles himself half atop Cas again, their now bare chests pressed together.  A gentle kiss to the side of Castiel's neck is followed by a whispered, "Is this what you want?"

" _Yes_ ," Cas answers simply, his long fingers tracing up and back down Dean's sides before spreading at the small of his back.  Dean's own touch is tender; his fingers molded to the curve of Castiel's ribs as he presses the first wet kisses to the underside of his jaw.  At the touch of his tongue, Cas gasps, his fingertips pressing hard against the long muscles of Dean's back as he drags them upward.

Dean's kisses are bolder, leaving a wet trail across Castiel's collarbone and the top of his shoulder as he studiously ignores the ache of his cock.  Castiel's pleased murmurs turn to soft moans as he stretches under Dean's body and tilts his head to the side; his heartbeat frenzied when Dean stops to suck over the pulse point in his throat.

Castiel's hands never stop; a palm molded to the back of Dean's head, feathery caresses to the back of his neck, the scratching of short nails across the breadth of his shoulders that makes his spine prickle with the heat of excitement as he forgets to breath.  Slowly, Dean's kisses make their way back to Castiel's lips.

Instead of chaste kisses, he teases Castiel's lips apart with a clever tongue-tip, savoring the hitched moan he gets in reward for the first tentative touch of their tongues.  Castiel squirms under him, sweat slicking their chests until they slide easily against one another, their hands still moving over every bit of skin they can reach.

After a long kiss, imprecise and probably too wet, and with a lot more breathing than a kiss is likely supposed to have, Dean lifts his head to look down at Castiel.  Cas' eyes are closed, the weary tightness around them replaced by the softness of pleasure wrought with Dean's own hands.  Dean presses a kiss to each eyelid as Castiel's palms drag lazily up and down his back, fingers curling over the tops of his shoulders in between.

"Wanna call it a night?"  Dean asks, lips pressed to Castiel's forehead as his fingertips trail over the outline of each of Castiel's ribs in turn.

"I'd like that," Castiel says, his usually gruff voice hoarse.

"I think I would, too." Dean smiles and kisses Castiel's forehead before shifting his weight once again; still pressed close to the man beneath him as he frees up his other hand to do the touching.


End file.
